❝I’ll remember.❞ Their guilt a storm, a serpent with barbed scales and acid tongue; it lives in them, still——eating itself for all eternity inside their guts, leaving them lightheaded and miserable. No matter how many times they’d been cut, burnt, flayed, not one of their condemners had thought to pry them apart and pull it from them. It would have been the least they could do, sentencing an innocent person to the gallows time and again; did ah’Jhyen truly not deserve even the most minimum of mercy for themself? Look, even now they are all smiles and mirth——laughing, honey-sweet, at the boldness which Miàoyì wears like a second skin. (where eternity has made them docile, it made her bold; ah’Jhyen could almost be envious of it all.) ❝And all my lives are not exactly the same, but… ah. How history loves to repeat itself.❞ Another peal of laughter, quieter than the last. (nothing about their life is funny, but it was better than crying, than tearing out one’s own hair.) ❝I try not to be the centerpiece of all these stories, but, it seems fate has a horrid sense of humor or an awful taste of who ought to be in charge.❞ Head lulls to the side, their stare warm like a lover’s. ❝Have you ever had an affair?❞
𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐖𝐋𝐒 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌, claims a spot close enough to knock her head gently against theirs. “ You think too much, ” she sighs, as if she knows what gruesome flashes dance through their mind. Sometimes, when she arrives late, she watches the injustice. She weeps. She remembers everything too. “ Disappointing but not surprising. The Han believed in cosmic cycles . . . We’re stuck, ehn ? ” The woman wraps her arms around them now, twists a golden lock of hair around her finger like a cat with string. “ Before you go this time, why not be a muse ? You always have those weepy, martyr eyes the Milanese love to paint. ” Rare for her to ever leave the east, but she trails along the old Silk Road to where the Romans once curled up like a wolf pack. They had been long gone. The empire traded for cities. The art is beautiful, she admits that much, keeping pictures folded in her ragged clothes, her hiding holes where she buries some treasure. “ No one will ever know the muse, even when her face beautifies the mansions. You would be safe. ”
“ --------- Yes. ” The woman is honest and shameless. But her nose wrinkles, as though remembering something small and bothersome and worth no accord. The reminder of an itch. “ It passes the time when they try to kill me, steal my secrets but it’s been three - hundred years since I’ve ‘ died ’. The children of man grow feebler every generation. But that’s not important. I am waiting for my true love to return. ” There she is : Yú the Beauty ! Her ruby - rich eyes shine and shimmer, bright and wet as pomegranate seeds. For a silver, a flash, she is young and full - faced ; the moon in rapture. She squeezes ah’Jhyen tighter. “ I hate humans, but he will be among them. So here I am, pretending and pretending . . . You can call me stupid. ”
baratheonpilled
dededos
pixelskylines
jacobvanloon
